


won't be alone again

by obfuscatedheart



Series: Three verses [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Inspired by Music, M/M, Post Fall, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obfuscatedheart/pseuds/obfuscatedheart
Summary: Yeah, I'm sick of losing soulmates, won't be alone againI can finally see, you're as fucked up as meSo how do we win?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Three verses [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643878
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28
Collections: If Music Be The Food Of Love





	won't be alone again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the If Music be the Love of Food event run by [Trashbambi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashbambi/pseuds/trashbambi)
> 
> Inspired by Sick of losing soulmates by dodie
> 
> Find the rest of the playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/15RCQxclY72mi0REvnLm19?si=Wa-jAgEmSKW_sIp_4ArKZg)

“See. This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For the both of us.”

“It’s beautiful.”

They are a zero sum game. Will realises it now, there is no place for them in this world anymore. No way that they can win. Hannibal had made sure of that. Cradled in his arms, Will thinks he would kill the Dragon a thousand times over for this moment, but he thinks he should be ending this. Hannibal, objectively needs to cease to be, but Will cannot bring himself to be the cause.

 _Not without you,_ his brain adds. Will doesn’t know what he would be without Hannibal. He makes a decision then.

Will is tipping them over the bluff towards the water. Hannibal relaxes his body and Will thinks for a moment that Hannibal was expecting this. They are plummeting towards the water. 

***

Will wakes with a gasp, he aches everywhere. He almost wants to laugh, serves him right for taking Hannibal and him over the cliff with their injuries. Beside him Hannibal is still asleep, something Will would have never thought possible. But the monster that is Hannibal feels safe with Will, safe enough to show his belly. Will watches Hannibal and wonders what a strange being Hannibal is, a dichotomy of the most terrible monster with the most loving person he has ever met. The boat was so small that there was only one cabin. He watches the deep even breaths for a long time before they lull him back to sleep. 

Sunlight wakes him, and Will has to swallow around the saliva in his mouth. He hides his face in the pillow, not wanting Hannibal to see. Warm fingers touch his face just below the gauze on his face. “Are you alright?” Hannibal’s voice is soft and full of sleep.

“‘M fine.” Will still sounds slurred, but his tongue is healing quickly. Hannibal had assured him of that, but his face is taking longer to heal.

“You woke earlier in the night, were you in pain?” Hannibal asks after a moment.

Will shakes his head, half in answer to the question and half with a sense of mirth, of course Hannibal did wake, even if for the briefest of moments.

“Dreams.” Hannibal nods like he understands, because he does. The realisation hits him once again, no one will ever know him the way Hannibal does. He has finally found someone as fucked up as him. Maybe more fucked up than him, but Will is tired of trying to ponder questions of morality in the same way. After all Hannibal had taught him that morality is subjective.

Hannibal gives him a soft smile and Will’s heart squeezes in his chest. He smiles back at Hannibal, it pulls at his stitches, it hurts. Hannibal shakes his head and pushes his cheek again. Will has to relax his face until his cheek no longer hurts.

“I think it won’t take long until you are healed.”

“Scars?”

“Presumably, it’ll fade with time. But I offer my apologies I could have done better.”

“No.” Will doesn’t mind the scars, it is not the first scar he is borne from everything that has come before.

“If I had been clearer the stitches might have been neater.”

“Survived.” Will wants to say more, but talking still hurts. Hannibal only nods.

He stretches and then winces. Will wants to wince in sympathy. Hannibal had been lucky, the shot had been clean through, miraculously missing major organs and blood vessels. Chiyoh had, with Hannibal’s direction, stitched him up. After she had fished them out of the Atlantic. Hannibal hadn’t let her stitch up Will. The possessiveness had made Will feel warm. 

“Food?” Will asks after long moments, silences with Hannibal have always felt comfortable, content just to spend time with each other.

Hannibal nods and slowly gets up. He moves like he has aged decades since the fall, and Will reaches out to Hannibal and rubs at his back. Hannibal melts into the touch and Will smiles again. It’s intoxicating the thought that Hannibal bends and moves for him. When he still feels like barely a human, merely superglued together. 

When Hannibal is standing Will misses the heat of him immediately. He is only the width of the bed away from him, but it seems an insurmountable distance. Will sighs and then gets up too. Standing still makes him feel a little dizzy, he knows that his injuries had been less severe than Hannibal’s. He had after all taken the brunt of their fall. 

He stretches out his shoulder gently, the wound there still aches. The stitches had been taken out a few days ago. The wound healing much quicker because he moved his arm less than his face. Hannibal is by his side far quicker than he had expected, he leans into the warm embrace. His forehead tucked under Hannibal’s chin. His breath tickling the hair on Will’s neck.

After long moments they separate and Hannibal walks out of their cabin. Will trails behind him, not wanting to be apart from Hannibal for even a moment.

They are dancing around something unspoken, and although Will wants to let the words spill out. He also wants to be able to speak properly again, not in the broken sentences and words he is talking in at the moment.

In the small galley of the ship Hannibal begins to make them food and Will helps him as much as he can. He hates watching Hannibal so subdued, the kitchen is too small for his monster, like he isn’t able to fully spread his wings. 

Hannibal finishes cooking and begins to puree a portion for Will. That hurts too, that he isn’t able to fully appreciate the food the way it is meant to be.

He helps carry the plates out onto the deck, the wind has died down and the sky is wide and open. It’s warm enough that Will doesn’t feel a chill even in his t-shirt and boxers.

Carefully he eats, he makes an appreciative moan, because that’s all he can do. Hannibal is watching with unfettered greed in his eyes. That too is new, that Hannibal doesn’t hide this now. It makes warmth curls in his stomach.

After long moments Hannibal speaks, “I think we need to go to shore soon. We are running low on supplies.”

“Supply stop? Longer?”

“Longer I think. We need something more stable to recuperate properly.”

Will nods.

“Where?”

“Somewhere warm I think. I’ve grown tired of cold winters.”

“South?”

“You always seem to know what I’m thinking.”

Will wants to say more, but he can’t, it would hurt too much. He doesn’t want to hamper his ability to talk to Hannibal. He misses their conversations so much, it had always been the most interesting conversations he had ever had. Hannibal had always been able to tease out more of him.

“Hunt?”

“If you so desire.” Hannibal sounds certain, and he wonders once again how much they have changed each other.

“Dunno.”

“I understand. Killing the Dragon would be a fitting end to the story of the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Il Mostro.”

Hannibal smiles with a twinkle in his eyes. “You truly did walk right through the halls of my beginnings.”

Will remembers something then, the firefly in the basement. 

“Lithuania.”

Hannibal looks at him quizzically. Confusion evident on his face, the pain is there too.

Will imagines it has to do with the pictures he had seen of a blonde girl. He knows that Hannibal will only be able to tell him when he is ready.

“Maybe, after we have healed.” Hannibal leans back in his seat and Will admires the lines of his body, even subdued by his injuries, Will can see the hidden power there. He knows Hannibal is deep in thought, and Will is content to let him. The gentle lapping at the edge of the boat takes him back to his own sailing trip over the Atlantic.

***

They arrive under the cover of the night, in a small harbour in Cuba, Hannibal had made some calls with the satellite phone Chiyoh had left them. Someone is waiting there for them, and he helps them to dock. The act of tying the boat to is great to ease his racing mind. The last week on the boat had been filled with more unspoken silences. They still spent every waking moment with each other, orbiting each other like twin suns. Will keeps thinking that something is going to break between them if he isn’t able to say something.

Once they are stood on solid ground, Will’s legs feel like jelly. He is so used to having to compensate for the rocking of the ocean. Hannibal is next to him and is steadying Will with a hand to his uninjured finger. Will gives him a small smile, Hannibal’s hand on him feels like a brand and he swallows around the lump in his throat.

The man passes over a bag to Hannibal, and Hannibal says something in Spanish to the man, the reply washes over Will’s head. He recognises a few words but not much, it has been a long time since he had spoken Spanish. Will knows he will have to get used to the language again, once he can talk. Not that he truly has any desire to be talking to anyone other than Hannibal.

Finally the man passes over a set of keys to Hannibal and points at a jeep that Will can just about see in the light of lamp. Hannibal nods and points at the boat, the man takes out a canister of what smells like gas from another bag.

Hannibal smiles wide, and turns to Will. “Will you do the honours?”

Will considers it for long moments. This is their last link to their lives in America, he will miss their little bubble. Where all they had was each other.

But they need to heal and something in him is beginning to itch underneath his skin. Hannibal hands the canister of gas to Will and he climbs back on to the boat. He douses the entire boat, taking care to focus on the areas of the boat where they had spent the most time.

He carefully climbs back off the boat and Hannibal helps him onto the dock. He is holding a pack of matches in one hand.

Hannibal offers them to him and Will shakes his head and says, “together.”

“My darling boy.” The word sends a fissure of warmth through him. Hannibal reaches for one of the matches and strikes it with his thumb. Will does the same and then they both throw the matches in a high arch onto the boat.

The gas catches alight and for long moments the watch the boat burn. Will wonders if the fire would not attract attention. Hannibal glances at Will and says, “I have paid off enough people that nobody will notice.”

Will is somehow not surprised that Hannibal has seemingly limitless resources to hand. It had been revealed in the trail that Hannibal was technically a Count. He had assured Will that it was a title only, that with the Soviet Union much of his family’s wealth had been lost. He had inherited most of his wealth from the Uncle that had adopted him after his parents’ death.

Hannibal never talked much about his parents’ death. He knows that the memory is still painful for him, and Will doesn’t want to pry. He knows that the memory of the past can be like a smothering blanket of darkness that never really leaves you.

They stand there for long moments watching the fire burn. Then a touch at his elbow makes him look up and he follows Hannibal to the jeep. They drive for long moments, Hannibal following some kind of route he already knows. 

Will lets the noise of the engine lull him into a sleep. Hannibal has a hand on him and it makes him feel safe and grounded.

He wakes when the car stops. He stretches slightly and turns to Hannibal. The man is sweating, Will can see it in the way that the light of the street is reflecting on his brow. He turns more fully to Hannibal who is sat there pressing a hand to his stomach.

“Help?”

“Maybe if we just take 10 minutes, we can keep going then.”

“I’ll drive.”

“You need to rest your shoulder.”

“I can drive.” Will doesn’t mean for it to sound so forceful but it does. He knows that Hannibal is trying to prove that he is capable. But Will already knows that he is. They both still need to recover, and Will isn’t sure what it will be like if Hannibal doesn’t recover.

The idea fills him with panic, and he squeezes Hannibal’s knee, he looks at Will. And Will says, “I’ll drive.”

Hannibal nods, he turns off the ignition and slowly climbs out of the car. Will opens the door and gets into the driver’s seat. Once Hannibal has buckled himself in he starts the car. “Directions?”

“I’ll guide you.” It rings true to something in Will’s soul, and he knows that this is it. They will guide each other until they grow old. The idea fills Will with warmth. 

Will follows the directions Hannibal gives him until they reach a small house. It is far away from everything else. It’s larger than he had expected, but Will supposes he shouldn’t have expected anything else. 

Hannibal gets out of the car slowly, he looks like he is in incredible pain, and something in Will breaks at that. His shoulder aches, but he knows that his injuries were less severe than Hannibal’s.

He follows Hannibal into the house. “When did you buy this?”

Hannibal is breathing heavily, he looks at Will for a moment. “I have owned this house for a long time. I had planned to take you and Abigail after Europe.”

That stings, but Will thinks that, finally after all this time, he understands. Hannibal had never been one that regretted things, but he does regret Abigail. Will knows that Hannibal and he have inflicted a lot of wounds and scars on each other. 

Will wonders when it is that the thought of losing Hannibal doesn’t feel like being gutted again, but worse because that would be never ending. He doesn’t think he would be able to survive it again.

“It’s nice.” Will says, somewhat lamely. 

Hannibal smiles, he seems to know that Will is at a loss for words. “I would show you around, but I need to lie down.”

He does look paler than usual, Will takes Hannibal’s arm on his uninjured side and puts it around his shoulders. 

“Let me.” Hannibal’s look is fond and a little incredulous.

Carefully Will takes them to the house. Hannibal ends him the keys and he unlocks the door. The house smells a little musty, and there are sheets covering every bit of furniture. Carefully he pulls one down from the sofa and places Hannibal down. Hannibal gives him a weak smile.

“I’ll get the bags.” Will says after a moment.

He feels like he has to clear his head, everything feels like a raw wound. The openness in Hannibal’s face is not something he had ever expected. It makes him feel like he is seeing something for the first time.

Will finds the bags and takes them out of the trunk. His shoulder is beginning to ache, but he carries them into the house. He looks up at the stars, he thinks that he hasn’t seen stars that bright in a long time. 

Once inside he rushes over to the couch when he sees that Hannibal has almost slumped off of it. He is paler than Will has ever seen him. Will crouches down beside him, ignoring any pain he is going through.

Hannibal’s breath is shallow, and Will knows that it is not a good sign. Will reaches for his wrist and counts his pulse, it is thready and fast. He looks over Hannibal and sees the dark stain on his shirt. “Shit.” Will curses, somehow some of Hannibal’s stitches had torn.

He is ripping the shirt open, digging in the bags for bandages. When he has enough material in his hand he focuses on Hannibal’s torso.

The gauze there is soaked with the red of blood. On the cliff the blood had been beautiful but now it is horrifying. Carefully he takes off the gauze to reveal the wound, the stitch had torn through the skin. Although Will can see that the flesh beneath is healing, there is still too much blood for his liking. 

He pours the antiseptic liquid over his hands and over the wound. It washes blood from the wound and Will can see more. Hannibal moans in pain above him and Will feels guilty. He watches as Hannibal’s eyelashes flutter. Will wants nothing more than Hannibal to be awake, to help guide him. 

Will presses the bandages to Hannibal’s torso. He needs the bleeding to stop, he can’t let Hannibal go without him. _I’m sick of losing soulmates,_ his brain adds. That realisation shakes something loose in him. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to realise this. He found a kindred soul in the Chesapeake Ripper. He supposes it makes sense, he calls to the darkness in Will.

After long moments, Hannibal begins to stir. Will can feel eyes on him and he meets Hannibal’s gaze. Relief floods him and he blurts out, “you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Pray tell why?” Hannibal says, he sounds fond but his voice is weak and Will hates it.

“You could have died.” Will says, he can’t help the way his voice cracks.

“I didn’t think you cared.”

“You really are an idiot.” Will shakes his head. He takes a deep breath, “what do I do?”

“Tell me what has happened.” Hannibal says.

“You’ve ripped a stitch.”

“It feels like it.” Hannibal sighs, “how much blood?”

“A lot.”

Hannibal chuckles, “it would be fitting for this to be the end.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Will says.

Hannibal grins, “don’t worry darling boy. I have no plans to leave this mortal coil.”

Will’s shoulders relax, and he hadn’t realised that he was so tense.

He hums slightly, before lifting the bandages slightly to see whether the blood is stopping. The flow is ebbing somewhat, but it is still seeping slowly.

“You’ll have to stitch it.” Hannibal says after a moment, Will looks at him, he is looking down at his torso. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Isn’t a little late for that?”

Will chuckles before he realises what he needs to do.

Hannibal reaches for his hand, “I have seen the lures you have made, you will do wonderfully.”

He is looking at Will earnestly, it soothes Will no end. 

“There is thread and needles in the first aid kit.”

“You always are prepared, aren’t you?”

“I decided a long time ago that I would never be unprepared for a situation ever again.”

Hannibal squeezes his hand, “you can do this.”

“What the hell would I be, without you.”

“Probably living a quiet life out in Wolf Trap.”

“I probably would have ended up dying of encephalitis.”

“What do you mean?”

“Although you let it run for a while, I know that you would have stepped in.”

“I just wanted to see what you would have done.”

“Wind me up and watch me go.” Will pauses, “and did I behave how you expected.”

“Will, you surpassed all of my expectations” Hannibal reaches a hand up and strokes over his cheek, Will nuzzles into it. “After all I could never quite predict you.”

Will smiles, he reaches into the bag. “Now tell me what to do.”

Hannibal guides him through the steps and he carefully adds another stitch to close the wound. He is shaking when he lies down the tools, Hannibal is looking at him with awe in his eyes, he is pale and sweating.

Will takes some gauze and after taking deep breaths and wraps up his torso. The remaining gauze he uses to wipe Hannibal’s brow.

“Do you want some water?” 

Hannibal nods weakly. “I’ll try and stay awake for a little while longer.”

Luckily the house is open plan so Will finds the kitchen quickly, and he can watch Hannibal as he finds glasses and fills them with water. It’s almost funny to him, how much the roles seem to have reversed, that he is the one watching Hannibal for his reactions.

To Will it seems that the tension is still palatable, he feels like they are still on the cliff, waiting for something to happen. Will isn’t sure in that moment what he does want, all he knows is that he wants to spend as much time as possible with Hannibal. That he can’t bear the thought of being away from Hannibal, wants to spend every waking moment with him. 

He approaches Hannibal, who looks at him with tired eyes. They are so soft and fond that Will crouches down next to him, he helps Hannibal take a sip. He is reminded again of how often Hannibal had done this for him. He itches to speak but he knows that Hannibal has limited capability to speak in that moment.

When Hannibal is finished drinking Will sets the glass aside. “I’ll take you to bed.”

Hannibal smiles at him, Will thinks that he is like a monster that is showing his belly. Like only Will can see the vulnerable parts of him. Will thinks that he doesn’t want to be alone ever again, now that he has found Hannibal.

Even in his subdued state he directs Will until they reach a bedroom. Carefully Will deposits Hannibal on the bed, he is already semi-unconscious. Will doesn’t blame him, he too is exhausted. He stands up and Hannibal whispers, “stay.”

Will cannot deny him this, doesn’t want to deny himself any longer. He clambers into the bed next to Hannibal. It wouldn’t be right to be apart from Hannibal now. 

Hannibal wraps himself around Will and he feels safe in a way he hasn’t in the longest time. Hannibal brushes dry lips against his in an echo of a kiss and Will’s heart skips a beat. He has waited so long for this, a physical acknowledgement of his bond to Hannibal. 

He breaks them apart wanting Hannibal to be fully conscious for this, but when he looks at Hannibal his eyes are clear. 

“This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For the both of us.”

Will can’t help himself, he kisses Hannibal again, ignoring his own pain until his Hannibal is pulling back. One hand curled around Will’s cheek as if trying to hold it close, the other clutching his stomach. 

He lies down next to Hannibal, one hand holding Hannibal’s to his cheek, pressing a kiss to the palm.

“Where do we begin?” Will says after long moments.

“We heal, rest up.” Hannibal sounds tired but sure. “Then we decide. I’m not letting you go, not now I finally have you.”

It fills Will with warmth, finally having someone that loves him in the same fucked up way he does; completely and unequivocally.

With one hand on Hannibal he lets himself fall asleep. His dreams are filled with Hannibal by his side.


End file.
